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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29145726">Two Weeks</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LynxB3/pseuds/LynxB3'>LynxB3</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Bandstand - Oberacker/Oberacker &amp; Taylor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Also implied Jimmy/someone else (cough cough aaron) because HE DESERVES NICE THINGS!!!!!, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Gen, Grady and Emily are Wayne's younger siblings, Hurt/Comfort, Implied julia/donny in the background lowkey if you squint, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Rating is teen due to swearing, Third Person POV, ask me about my headcanons for this au im full of those, no beta we die like michael</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:35:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,727</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29145726</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LynxB3/pseuds/LynxB3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Wayne looks tired, Nick notes at some point. </p><p>He isn't sure when he realises it. But now whenever he looks at the other boy all he can think is how much deeper his eye bags go, how much less effort he puts in P.E, how... wrong his work feels when he's doing it in front of them. </p><p>By all means, there is nothing wrong with it. The questions are answered with textbook precision. His script is as neat as a printer. There are no wrinkles, or tears on the paper, or smudges. </p><p>Maybe it's the fact he's doing it when they're having lunch, instead of at home. </p><p>-------<br/>OR, the one where Wayne is acting weird, and Nick is too nosy for his own good. But that may even be helpful, in the end.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Johnny Simpson &amp; Wayne Wright, Nick Radel &amp; Davy Zlatic, Nick Radel &amp; Wayne Wright</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Two Weeks</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Well, this is my life now. Making content for fandoms with 5 people. Can't say I hate it though, I'm attatched to these characters now. </p><p>Some things to say, that were left a bit vague on the tags in my opinion?<br/>- This is a high school AU in a modern setting. I normally never think of High school aus, but I guess the anxiety of classes coming back made me do this. Julia and Wayne are seniors (due to wayne being a lieutenat + both of them being married); Donny, Nick, Davy, and Johnny are Juniors (bc... well); Jimmy is a sophomore (because hes pursuing a law degree, so my brain immediately associates him with being younger).<br/>- Grady and Emily, Wayne's kids in canon, are instead his younger siblings (like, please. the guy isnt even out of high school here yet). He takes care of them, picks them up from school, helps with homework, stuff like that. Yknow. What parents do.<br/>- the band is still a band in this! They are an independent band, don't play with the school. Unfortunately I'm only a theater kid so i have no idea how bands work? oops<br/>- the autocorrect at some point corrected something to "Nick Hadouken", so ask me about the street fighter au i guess (/joke)<br/>- this is my first work for this fandom. It might be OOC.<br/>- this is unedited, unbeated, and overall probably a mess. I apologise for any grammatical mistakes or typos bc english isnt my first language.</p><p>That's all the notes, I think. Feedback is appreciated :)<br/>Special thanks to my friend Dove, who listened to me ramble about this, and to the Booklovers discord, who helped me with many terms and words at 3 in the morning when english was failing me.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Nick hadn't realized anything was wrong until about 2 weeks after it had happened. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The band's schedule is simple. Meet everyday, except Fridays, after everyone was done with class, extracurriculars, or whatever held them back that day. Practice until the evening, when the professional musicians would show up and they had to leave. Johnny would offer everyone a ride, and Davy would accept, as long as he dropped him off at the club his older sister worked at. Wayne would go, as quickly as possible, in the other direction, to pick up his own siblings in daycare. Jimmy, Donny, and Julia would stay awhile, talking and going over their practiced songs - although Jimmy was always the first to leave, always busy with some project or book to read. Nick would accompany the couple about halfway through their path, then stray to his own house. He never paid much care to what they did after he left - if they went home, or on a date, or to commit a series of war crimes, he wouldn't know. And he didn't really give a shit, either </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That is, he didn't give a shit until now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was 6:30. They had all already gathered their instruments, and were leaving to make space for the next group to rehearse. Johnny and Davy were walking towards the spot Johnny had parked his car in, making bad jokes and laughing loudly. Donny was discussing a recent opportunity they had gotten to play in a senior home or whatever it was. Nick fell back, watching the interactions happen, not really paying attention to anything in particular. Wayne was... </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wayne was not rushing to pick up his siblings. In fact, he seemed content with staying behind with the group, leaning up against a wall and taking some papers from his bag, shuffling over them without much care - as if he had already read them a hundred times. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hey, Wright," he calls. The band falls silent, everyone slowly turning to look at him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Don't you have to pick up your kids from school, or something? Or did your folks finally decide to pay attention to them?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Julia cringes a little at his words, turning away from the conversation and prompting Donny to keep talking. He hesitates for a moment, before continuing. Wayne doesn't look up at Nick; in fact, he suddenly seemed all that more interested in the papers in his hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"They have a recital. Th- I'll be picking them up later." He swung his bag over to the side, putting the papers in the open binder inside, and zipping it shut with more violence than he probably needed. "But I should get going anyway. Until next week, everyone." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He walks away, before Nick can say anything else. Jimmy slides over to his side. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"So is that weird, or..." he trailed off, gesturing vaguely with his hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, no shit Sherlock. That was suspicious as fuck." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"But maybe they are having a recital. You don't know that." Julia offered, half heartedly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"On a Thursday? What kind of school does that on a Thursday? No one has time to see it. It defeats the whole purpose of a recital." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She gives a defeated sigh. "Yeah, I can't argue against that." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"We'll catch him tomorrow during break and ask. If we're lucky, he'll be too distracted reorganizing the library shelves to realise he's telling us everything." Donny jokes, swinging his arm around Julia's shoulder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Don't torment him, Donny." She chastises him, but she's smiling. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The conversation derails from there, but Nick isn't listening. Even though Wayne already disappeared around a corner, he can't help but keep staring. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next time it gets brought up, it's already on the next rehearsal. They had not, in fact, caught Wayne during lunch the next day, seeing as he left to do whatever it was he did in the lunch period (eat, hopefully) and the subject was forgotten for the rest of the weekend. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Anyone need a lift?" Johnny asked after they left the building, although he probably didn't expect a response besides the usual one. Nick suspected he did it out of habit, not purposely. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Davy made a vague affirmation noise and the two of them began to walk away, everyone falling to their routine. Wayne cleaned his throat, walking after them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Actually, would you drop me off at Jane's? It's in the same direction. I'll guide the way." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, you got a date, Wayne?" Davy wiggles his eyebrows, leaning closer to the senior. Wayne scoffs, not dignifying him with a response, and brings his trombone case closer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The pair - and Wayne - leave. Jimmy, Julia, and Donny are arguing over a book assigned in someone's English class, too busy to care. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nick watches. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wayne looks tired, Nick notes at some point. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He isn't sure when he realises it. But now whenever he looks at the other boy all he can think is how much deeper his eye bags go, how much less effort he puts in P.E, how... wrong his work feels when he's doing it in front of them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By all means, there is nothing wrong with it. The questions are answered with textbook precision. His script is as neat as a printer. There are no wrinkles, or tears on the paper, or smudges. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe it's the fact he's doing it when they're having lunch, instead of at home. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before they have to go their separate ways, one day, Nick corners him against a locker right outside the cafeteria. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Alright. Spill it." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wayne looks at him quizzically, measuring his next words carefully. "I don't know what you're talking about." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You've been acting strange these past few weeks, and I want to know what's going on. Is it something someone said? We don't need to beat anyone up, do we, Wayne?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"There's nothing wrong," Wayne retorts, and the way he grits his teeth reminds Nick of a predator ready to attack. "And even if there was, it's none of your business. Let me go, please, or I'll be late for class." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nick holds him back for a moment, but lets him go. Wayne dusts off imaginary dirt from his clothes, muttering something unintelligible and rushes away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you think is Wayne’s problem recently?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Davy stops lining up the empty bottles on the counter, and looks at him with curiosity.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Other than the usual?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nick huffs. “Well. Yes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know. Was hoping you’d know all about it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why would I know anything about it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re closer to him than I.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And, true. He didn’t know why he thought Davy would know more about it than him, but it had made sense in his mind at the time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I… He’s been acting weird. It doesn’t sit right with me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Davy hums in affirmation, turning back to the bottles. “Have you tried asking him about it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Duh. He didn’t say shit.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It might just be stress. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>a senior, after all.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But Julia isn’t acting like that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Julia doesn’t have to parent two kids who aren’t even hers, though.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bottles clink together. “Shit, do you think something happened to one of them?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“For the sake of our mental health, I’m gonna hope not. You get bad enough when one of your tutees gets sick, imagine if they were your actual kids like him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nick makes a noise of protest, and Davy laughs at him. They don’t touch the topic again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright, folks.” Donny says one day after class, during a time when they’re not rehearsing, just hanging out. Nick doesn’t know when they became close enough for that, but it happened. “I have </span>
  <em>
    <span>incredible</span>
  </em>
  <span> news. You guys remember Oliver?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s not a question that needs to be answered. Of course, they all remember Oliver. The man was one of the biggest supporters of their band, since the beginning. His restaurant was still one of their most used meeting points to discuss basically anything.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, he’s offered to get us a gig. A paying gig. Sunday, 6pm, at the-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No. I work Sunday.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donny’s smile falters for a moment from being interrupted, and he turns his focus to Wayne. “You work?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wayne raises an eyebrow. “Yes? Playing doesn’t pay all that much. Every penny I make matters, and I can’t throw that away.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m not gonna turn this opportunity down. Figure it out with your boss, or skip out on this one, just tell me beforehand.” Donny dismisses him with a wave, and Wayne nods forcefully. “But I was thinking we could play that last selection we came up with during rehearsal. The songs are solid, and they blend in well with each other.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really? You still think ‘You Deserve It’ is gonna get popular?” Nick asks, and sees the patience flit out of Donny’s eyes with satisfaction. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you two fight over this again, I’m telling the school board it was you who broke the chairs in the theater.” Jimmy chimes in, cutting off the two of them with a scowl. “Don’t test me. You know I will.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We don’t even go there!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The board doesn’t need to know that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wha- Come on Jimmy, that’s unfair! Aren’t you studying to be a lawyer? Is that how you’re gonna treat your opponents?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I for one completely support him.” Julia hums. “We’ve already heard you two go over this way more times than we need.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait. Did they break the theater chairs, or…?” Johnny asks, tuning into the conversation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No! We can’t even go in there! The theatre kids would eat us alive.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“As a theater kid,” Davy offers, “I can tell you they’re most definitely the ones who broke them. They’re just like that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“See? Now come on, guys, let's go over the songs again. We need to impress those people, else we won’t get any more offers. Now, as I was saying…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wayne does show up to play with them Sunday, after all. He looks miserable.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This doesn’t go unnoticed by Nick. But most importantly, it doesn’t go unnoticed by Johnny. And he and Wayne have been friends for </span>
  <em>
    <span>years, </span>
  </em>
  <span>since middle school, so it was possible the junior could get to him in ways Nick couldn’t.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You look dead today.” He says, blunt as ever.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m serious. You look like you could drop any moment.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Johnny, I know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Johnny pauses for a moment, before moving closer. Wayne barely covers up a flinch when his personal space is invaded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re ok. Right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...I’m figuring it out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Johnny pats him in the arm, an attempt of comfort. Wayne can’t hide his wince this time, but accepts the physical contact with an hesitant quirk of his lips. It can’t quite be called a smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That answer is more than Nick has managed to get out of him in weeks, and it still means nothing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He has to take drastic action, if he wants to know anything, it seems.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘Drastic action’ apparently means following someone after they leave school, in Nick’s book.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now, he liked to think he was stealthy enough to follow someone without being noticed. It’s not like he had any experience in it, but then again, there’s no reason for his ‘subject’ to suspect anything.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Of course, it doesn’t make following him any easier. Wayne keeps doubling back, retracing his steps to fit an imaginary pattern, and making Nick jump into the crowd to hide. He'd sometimes stop randomly, looking at the people passing around him for a few minutes before he started walking again, a melancholic lilt to his gait.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One time, he didn't look at the people passing. He stared straight ahead into a house on the other side of the road, bringing his hands up to fiddle with a ring (that Nick somehow hadn't noticed he was wearing, considering it's dark colour - practically black - clashed with the lightness of his skin), before shaking his head and turning away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nick walked to the spot where Wayne had been standing. On the other side, stood the Wright household, which Nick knew well enough from the outside to be able to tell with a single glance. Wayne passed right by it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That wasn't good, he decided, sprinting to catch up. That was terrible. He had to get to the bottom of it, now. It didn’t matter, suddenly whether he was seen or not; he could cook up an excuse as to why he was there later. Wayne was already lost to the crowds of people, and Nick curses when he realises his chances of catching him now dimmed considerably.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But maybe fortune was on his side. He kept walking forward, looking around every direction to try and find a trombone case, or a figure walking back every five minutes, or-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He jumped, surprised by the voice, arms drawn up to defend himself. Wayne was standing behind him, shoulders tense and eyes as wide as a cat’s on a highway. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Looking for you,” Nick responds, and there go all his plants of pretending he doesn’t care. “What the fuck is going on with you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I already told you, I’m-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Working on it, yeah. I heard you. And I don’t buy that. So tell me what’s really happening. Why didn’t you go home?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wayne avoids his gaze, hands moving up to fiddle with the ring again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“See, that’s the thing. I don’t think I get to call it my house anymore.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They stay silent for a moment, and Nick hopes against all odds this doesn’t mean what he thinks it means.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My dad- you know my father was a Marine. I don’t think he knows the difference between running a household and running a platoon. He disagrees with.. He doesn’t want me to be a bad influence on the kids, so I had to get out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He finishes with uncertainty, his eyes shimmering like he’s barely holding back tears. Nick doesn’t think he can handle crying, on top of the bomb Wayne just dropped, so he keeps him talking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where are you sleeping? Don’t tell me you don’t have a place, or I swear to God-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, no, I 've been staying in the Key Inn for the past couple of weeks. I’m dealing with it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nick ruminates that for a while, barely registering the movement around them. Wayne seems anxious to leave and get h- get back to the inn.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eventually, he reaches a conclusion that seems satisfactory to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Get your things and come to my place.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wayne looks at him in surprise. “No, I’ve been staying at the Inn-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I don’t give a shit. Come on, I’ll help you pack.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But- What are your folks gonna say?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nick rolls his eyes. “As if they’re around long enough to notice an extra person in the house. We’re wasting daylight here, let’s go.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He starts walking, even if he doesn’t know what direction the Inn is. Wayne breaks out of his stupor and hurries to catch up, and Nick lets him take the lead.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The band's schedule is simple.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Meet every week, Tuesdays and Thursdays, after everyone was done with class, extracurriculars, or whatever held them back that day. Practice for one hour until 9PM, when the place would close and they all had to go home. Johnny would offer everyone a ride, and Davy would accept, the two walking arm in arm like a pair of lifelong friends.Donny and Julia would stay awhile, talking and giggling together, oblivious to the world around them. Jimmy would leave, nose buried in a textbook - except, when he left with a goofy smile on his face, gripping his phone like it held the secrets to the universe. Nick and Wayne left, together, walking towards Nick’s home. Wayne would look at him as if he was asking, for the millionth time, if that was okay. Nick would look back at him saying that </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes, </span>
  </em>
  <span>it was perfectly fine. He wouldn’t have offered if it wasn’t.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They’d go in silence. Nick usually not paying attention to much around him, occasionally stopping to wait for Wayne when the other decided he had to retrace his steps. Wayne would count houses, or people, often muttering numbers under his breath when they crossed a road or turned around a corner.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t hard to adjust to that, at all. Maybe he could even call it nice.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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